A Much Needed Distraction
by GreenGirl47
Summary: Set post-Wrecked. Spike and Anya run into each other at the Bronze. Some sexy dancing ensues. R & R.


A/N: Set post "Wrecked". Anya and Spike run into each other at the Bronze, and what starts out kind of sexual ends up being what both of them need-- someone to relate to.. They may be a little out-of-character, I wrote this in a state of absolute exhaustion. If it sucks, it's not on purpose. R & R please.  
  
Disclaimer: Joss's, not mine.  
  
  
  
I don't understand what Xander's problem is. I just don't get why he acts so squeamish when I try to talk about our wedding. I mean, it was *his* idea to get married in the first place. *I* didn't give *him* a ring on the night of an impending apocalypse, now did I? No. *He* proposed to *me*, and now he's acting like it's my fault that I'm so excited about us getting married. He wouldn't even let me tell anyone that we were engaged until just a few weeks ago. Is he ashamed of me? Did I do something wrong? I have a feeling that his problem with me is something not even *money* can fix. And that's saying something.   
  
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I don't understand what Buffy's problem is. I just don't get why she acts so bloody squeamish when I try to talk about what's happening between us. I mean, every time we've kissed, even the night we slept together, *she's* the one who initiated it. I never once made a move on her until she gave me the okay, and now she's acting like it's *my* fault that I'm so bloody confused. She's made me swear never to tell about anything we've done, like I'm her dirty little secret or something. I can deal with being the dirty little secret, but why won't *she* at least talk to me about what happened? Why is she so afraid of *us*? I have a feeling that whatever her sodding problem with me is is something not even a good ass-kicking can fix. And that's saying something.  
  
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That's it. I need to get out of the apartment. I'm feeling all this frustration and I need to do something about it before I explode or throw something very heavy. But where should I go? Maybe Buffy's. No, I can't go there. Everyone who lives there has been unusually aggressive lately and I'm in no mood to be feeding on bad vibes. Maybe I could go visit Tara. No, that would be a little awkward; I've never been alone with a depressed lesbian before. I wouldn't know how to act. And besides, I feel like I need to be doing something physical. And seeing as Xander is asleep and I'm feeling not nice toward him right now, sex is not an option.   
  
I've got it! I'll go to the Bronze. Maybe a little dancing will get the nasties out of my system.   
  
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That's it. I need to get out of the crypt. I'm so bloody pissed off right now, I need to do something before I rip the God damn chip right out of my head and kill something. If I've even got the balls for that anymore. Damnit, where to go? I can't go stalk the graveyard, I'll probably run into the Slayer. I'd go and visit Little Bit, except knowing my sodding luck I'd probably run into the Slayer there, too. Christ, that bitch has got me caged. Where can I go that I'm *sure* she won't stop by on patrol?   
  
I've got it. I'll swing by the Bronze for awhile. A little booze'll do me some good.  
  
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Damn this human body. It's not old enough yet to legally purchase alcohol and right now I'm feeling like getting a little drunk would be therapeutic.  
  
You know, I've been a person for almost three years now and I still don't understand why some rules are the way they are. I am 20 years old as a human and I can own a store and be engaged and serve in my country's Army, but I can't buy one tiny glass of beer. It's really quite illogical.  
  
So instead I sit at the bar and sip a Dr. Pepper, watching the people on the dance floor. The band is good tonight; they have a definite hold on the audience. The guitar is mournful and the beat is slow and the singer has a wonderful voice. It's giving me the bumpies all up and down my arms. I kind of wish Xander was here. I feel like dancing.  
  
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The Bronze isn't exactly my favorite place to be now that I've got my chip. All that racing blood and pounding adrenaline, and not one drop for poor neutered me. It's kind of like being a politician in a room full of hot young interns wearing chastity belts.  
  
Oh well, at least this isn't one of those sodding bubblegum clubs where all they play is Britney Bloody Spears and the like. Must say I'm actually impressed with the band tonight. For once they've got someone playing whose music isn't total bollocks. It's slow, kind of depressing, a nice ballad. It's giving me chills. I kind of wish Buffy was here. I feel like dancing.  
  
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I finish my soda with a satisfying slurp and slide off the bar stool. I think I'll go join in the dancing. That *is* what I came here to do after all. I see an open spot near the stage, right where I like to be, and start heading over to it. I don't get five feet from the bar, though, before I'm slammed into by someone passing in the opposite direction. "Watch where you're bloody going," he spits. I recognize the accented voice instantly.   
"Spike," I say.  
He turns around; I see a smile flicker across his face. "Well hello there, Demon Girl." He glances over my shoulder. "No Scoobies with you?"   
I shake my head. "Not tonight. I'm alone."   
"Oh, what a shame." His voice is sarcastic.   
"No need to get fresh," I tell him.   
He laughs and holds his hands up mockingly. "Sorry! Didn't mean to offend you, Anyanka."  
I roll my eyes. Spike is a very annoying creature. He rarely says anything unoffensive. Some people have no tact.  
  
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How ironic. The one place I figure I'm safe from the Slayer and here I am running into one of her best mates. I can't escape those blasted Scoobies no matter where I try and hide.  
  
Huh. Demon Girl's still standing there looking at me. Wonder what her problem is? "What's your malfunction, Demon Girl?" I ask.   
She shrugs. "I was just admiring your body. It's ripped."  
  
Wow. That was quite blunt. I raise an eyebrow. "Ah, so you fancy me, do you?" I tease.   
She shakes her head. "No. I just think your body is nicely shaped."   
I smile. "Well. I could say the same thing about you, now couldn't I?"   
She nods. "Yes, you could. I mean, thank you." She tucks a lock of candy-blond hair behind her ear in faux self-conciousness and gives me a wide-eyed glance. I smirk back at her.   
  
Funny. It seems we're flirting.   
  
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I think Spike and I are having flirting. I'm acting shy and innocent like I've seen many girls do during flirting, and he's acting all macho and manly. It's kind of fun, like mini-seduction. And he is very attractive to me, even if he *is* a bit on the crude side. I wonder if I flirt enough if I can get him to ask me to dance? I'll take it as a challenge.  
  
"So," I say. "Do you enjoy... this?" I make a broad gesture to the dance floor with my hands. He follows my glance and shrugs.  
"Not really. I've just come to get out of my crypt."  
"Really! I've just come to get out of my apartment."  
He frowns. "You and Harris get in a fight?"  
"Not exactly. It's more *I* got in a fight with *him*, but he doesn't know it."  
He grins. "Ah, I get it."  
  
We're quiet for a minute. It's something of a contemplative quiet, like he's thinking and deciding. I look away briefly to give him some space and catch him checking out my breasts from the corner of my eye.  
  
Finally he speaks again. "So, Demon Girl, care to dance?" His lips are curved into that sexy smile of his, the one where the hollows of his cheeks are accentuated; his light eyes are surprisingly sincere as he waits for my reply.  
  
I guess a lot of flirting was not necessary to get him to ask.  
  
"Yes I do, Spike," I answer. "But stop referring to me as 'Demon Girl'. I have a name, you know." It irritates me that he never calls me by my real name.   
He nods. "Fine, fine. Anya. Now shall we?"  
I smile. "We shall."  
  
He takes my hand and we walk out onto the floor, finding a spot amidst all the other couples in their various states of sexual arousal. His arms snake around my waist and we begin to dance.  
  
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Christ, Demon Girl's a bloody good dancer. She really knows how to work those hips of hers. She presses against me, looking at me with a tiny smile painted across her face. Her hands run over my shoulders and pecs-- she's making me hot. Bet she's a tomcat in the sack.   
  
I lean down and nuzzle the crook of her neck with my mouth, giving it a quick swipe with my tongue. She tenses. "Don't worry, pet," I purr. "I won't bite you." My teeth brush against her skin teasingly; my chip fires a warning shot.   
  
Oh, well. The sting is worth her taste.  
  
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Spike is turned on by our pelvis-to-pelvis swaying. I can feel it in the way he grinds himself into me. I can't say I blame him, though-- not because of *me*, I mean I know I'm pretty, but acknowledging it is considered vanity and Xander told me vanity is a bad thing-- but this kind of dancing does not disresemble sexual intercourse. I'm getting kind of horny myself.  
  
And now he's starting with the vampire behavior, teasing my neck with his mouth. It's making me a little nervous, but it's something I've missed. The bad boy stuff, I mean. Maybe some night I'll convince Xander to play rough and take a-- never mind. Phew, take it easy, Anya.  
  
What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, Spike acting vampy. His hands are on my ass now; I feel his tongue on my neck. He's tasting my skin, wishing he could bite into it. I know he is. His chip won't let him hurt me though. It's like a mental castration. He can't inflict any physical pain on humans. No pain at all, but-- hmmmm. Now that I think about it, I wonder if he can still...  
  
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Anya pulls back suddenly, leaving my lips caressing nothing but air. She takes her hands off my shoulders and takes a step away from me. Damnit. I hope I've not scared her with my false vampiric tendencies. I was quite enjoying our little promenade. "Sorry, pet," I say. "Didn't mean to frighten you off. I was just playing."  
She shakes her head. "No, no, it's not that. Your lips are sensual and pleasing to me." Good. She's not put off, then. I grin. "That's what all the girls say."  
She raises an eyebrow. "Right." We're silent for a moment. "Anyway, I was just curious, does your chip keep you performing sexually?"  
  
I must say I'm a little surprised. I've been around Demon Girl enough to know that she's got a bloody huge mouth, but this kind of caught me off-guard. I choke for a second, trying to think of a cocky reply.   
"Why?" I ask finally. "Craving a bit of the rough stuff, are you?"   
She shakes her head affirmatively. "Well, yes, but I can't accept sex from *you*. As attractive as I find you, I'm engaged to Xander and I honor that commitment."  
  
Bloody well figures Harris has got this fine little dish on a leash. She's blunt as a rock.   
  
"Well, pet, I'm not offering you any," I tell her. "You know I love Buffy. And as attractive as *I* find *you*, well... not gonna happen. Slayer found out I shagged one of her friends she'd kill me."  
"Yes, I know," Anya replies. "But that's not the point. I asked you a question politely, so I deserve a prompt answer."  
  
I laugh. Demon Girl's got such a way with her words.  
  
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What's taking him so long to answer? I asked him a simple yes or no question. I'll bet he's stalling because he *can't* have sex anymore and he's embarassed about it. Oh, now I feel bad for him! Poor, impotent Spike.  
  
Jeez, what is it with vampires who can't fornicate falling in love with Buffy? It seems like she's doomed to a life without lovemaking. Poor, unsexed Buffy, too. Life is so sad for some people.  
  
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Anya wants an answer. She's watching me carefully, waiting. Should I tell or shouldn't I?   
  
A thought crosses my mind. I know a way to completely shock Demon Girl. I promised to keep it a secret, though, I gave Buffy my word; but what's the bloody point? She'll never treat with any type of respect. How would she like a taste of her own bitter medicine, the bitch? I'll do it. I'll tell.  
  
I lean closer to Anya and beckon her forward. She bends, intrigued. "So," I say. "You want to know if my shagging abilities are still up to par." She answers with an impatient "Yes." I press my mouth against her ear and breathe, "Why don't you ask the Slayer?"  
  
As soon as those words escape, I wish I could shove them back in.  
  
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All right. I stand corrected. Spike *can* still do the deed, and apparently Buffy *is* getting action. Both of those being taken care of together. With both of them. Simultaneously. They slept together. Wow.  
  
Wait, maybe he's lying. I mean, I thought Buffy hated him. She says so all the time; she's always trying to avoid the subject of Spike. And how many times has she beaten him up by now? It has to be close to a thousand.  
  
But then again, she *was* desperate, I could sense it, and Spike would certainly give himself to her willingly. And now that I look closer I can see that what I thought were regular scratches on his face and collarbone are actually nailmarks. They really did it.  
  
For once, I'm speechless.  
  
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Oh bloody hell, now I've really done it. I'm dead. Or dead-ER. When this gets back to Buffy-- and I know it will, Anya can't keep her fucking mouth shut-- she'll kill me. And not figuratively. I'm talking stake-in-the-heart-pile-of-dust-dead.  
  
I really need to learn to control myself.  
  
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I finally get my voice back and ask, "When?"   
He scowls. "Never you mind. I've bloody said too much."  
"It had to have been recently," I persist. "Those love wounds are fresh."  
He claps a hand over his cheek as if trying to hide the marks. "I said never mind. Nothing *really* happened. She gave these to me in a fight."  
"Yeah," I say, using sarcasm. "A fight for tops or bottoms." I look at Spike, waiting for his bantering reply. He doesn't look amused, though. He looks pissed off. *Really* pissed off.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
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I grab her wrists and give her a warning growl. She's pushed me too far. "Shut up!" I hiss.  
She flinches. "Ouch! Let me go!"  
I'm angry. I twist her left arm behind her back.  
"Ow! Spike, stop it!"  
"I won't," I threaten, jerking her arm again. She cries out in pain.  
  
This time my chip blasts a nasty one at me and I'm forced to let her go. "Ugh!" I groan, clutching at my temples. For a moment I'm rendered senseless.  
  
When the blindess passes, I open my eyes, expecting to find that she's run off. But surprisingly she's still standing there, rubbing her wrists. I can see I left handprints on them and I feel a little bit of chip-induced pity for her. I think I should apologize.  
"Anya," I say.  
She looks up at me, frowning. "That was very rude of you!" she exclaims. "I was only trying to use sarcasm to lighten the situation."  
"I know," I reply. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."  
"You got a lot carried away," she scolds. "My wrists are sore and red now."  
"I said I was sorry."  
She just stares at me for a second, eyes hard, and I wonder if she's going hit me. But surprising me once again, she pats my shoulder. "It's okay," she says, returning to her brightly annoying mannerisms. "I understand." She gives a small smile. "Love makes you crazy."  
I stand still. "Yeah. It really does."  
  
Huh. Demon Girl isn't half as bad as I thought she was. We actually can relate on a level other than the we-used-to-be-evil one. Maybe she *will* keep her bloody huge mouth shut about this.   
  
She better, anyway.  
  
I smile and offer her my arm again. "Want me to buy you a drink?"  
  
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I think I'll take him up on that offer. After all, a thousand years of vengance mean nothing when your body is only twenty.  
  
  
END 


End file.
